About Me

My husband tells me I am a makebate. So, what's wrong with that? I love to write. I have 2 great kids and 1 grandson. I'd love to say I am "retired" but really, who retires from life? Shoot me a question, comment, rant or rave. They are all welcome here. Love dogs, my family, and most of all, debate. Pro NRA, conservative and a right wing lady.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

"Look Daddy, 'Teacher says every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings'". Little Zuzu Bailey said it best. Or maybe it was young George Bailey, holding up two fingers, closing his eyes and wishing, "I wish I had a million dollars." Either way, "It's a Wonderful Life" was just about one of the finest films ever made.

A dear friend of mine, Julie Colwell, knows me all too well. A few years ago - well, at least 12 year ago, I was going through one of my notorious holiday depressions. During this particular pity party for one, I was missing my recently departed Daddy, who had succumbed to cancer in 1995. As far as I was concerned, life would never be the same since he was gone. He had a way of making everyone he came across feel as though they were one of the most important people in the world.

At any rate, back to Julie. Here I was, in a state of feeling sad, and walking out to the mail box to get the mail. There in my wagon wheel mailbox was a little package from my angel, Julie. A nicely wrapped gift, "It's A Wonderful Life", just in time for Christmas. The gift made all the difference in what might have been a really crappy holiday. Julie is just one in a million. Some years later, I would again open my mail box and find a real, genuine, personally autographed black & white still from the movie "Its A Wonderful Life", penned by little Zuzu Bailey, herself. I treasure that picture, almost as much as the movie, and Julie.

Not just during this time of year, but all the other 11 months, I feel blessed to have a CLARENCE. An angel who watches over me, cares about me, and loves me, depression, rants, Republicanism and all. Julie can pay a compliment to anyone. It doesn't matter what you have done, where you have been, who you may or may not have got into trouble with. Julie is there.

The same could be said about my best friend Kris. She comes through like a shining star when you least expect it. She can be gruff, stand-offish and somewhat aloof, but personally she hasn't fooled me. That tough outside shell just hides what is one helluva a great human being. Ssshh, I don't want her secret to get out. One year I was down in the dumps about some trivial thing - so trivial that at this very moment I can't even recollect what it was. At any rate, once again the post office delivered a little ray of sunshine. See's chocolates - Bordeaux chocolates to be exact. Kris knows me all too well. My favorite See's candies on a crummy day. Yet, another CLARENCE in my life.

Then you have people like George. George Bailey. What a great Hollywood creation. Jimmy Stewart was the perfect man for the great task of bringing George Bailey to life. Bedford Falls could be Anytown, USA. And any person such as a George could bring a no-name spot on a map to life with the belief that there are truly genuine, decent people in this world.

During this time of year, when people are spraying the competing shopper in the face with pepper spray, all over an XBox360, or someone crazy dame has gone completely overboard with the tinsel on her festivus pole, or someone has flocked their tree just a little TOO much, it's nice to know that there are still George Bailey's in the world, Bedford Falls can be where ever you call home, and out there in the great vastness of the heavens...

Friday, December 16, 2011

It's that time of year again - the time where we list our naughties and niceness, in hopes of the illusive Santa Claus making deliveries via a chimney. I guess Santa is not coming down any chimneys at our house this year, as the magic man Big Wind, blew our chimney stack to Arizona on December 1st massive windstorm. Oh well. If I close my eyes and really, really wish upon a star, maybe I will wake up in Arizona as well.

When I was younger, the anticipation of Christmas was something else. Our parents had routines. On December 6th, the Feast Day of St. Nicholas, we would get a tree. Decorating was a family activity, although I believe my daddy got more out of it then the rest of the family. By the time the house was done being adorned by Christmas spirit, picture frames would have little sprigs of pine tucked behind them and the tree gave the house a fragrant aroma of mystery for the season. Daddy decked the 2 story suburban house with lights. Some blinking, some burned out, but it was magical, mysterious time on Yolanda Avenue.

I vaguely recall the Christmas wish list. Some of the items on it were probably absurd. A new car, a stereo system, a trip to Europe. skis, trips to ski resorts. Classic. What the hell did we think our parents were made of - money? As I got older, and realized that money did not grow on trees, the list became shorter, and far more realistic. Maybe a bottle of perfume, or warm slippers. Items that actually could be used over and over again. And the gifts were far more enjoyable.

Now, as a grandmother to Christopher Corry, and his very first Christmas I am left with the realization that I can't give him the world. I wish I could. World peace, an end to world wars, economic stability for his future. It all boils down to "wants" vs "needs". Just how much stuff does a 2 month old baby "need". Just what is enough? Christmas is really for kids. Its about imagination. Dreaming. Fantasy. As kids get older, it is far more about "wants". Most commercial, costly, and soon forgotten once the AAA batteries wear out, and the family pet gets a hold of the toy.

What I can do for our grandson is plan for his future. I can start today by putting aside money in order to build a college fund for him. Maybe he will be the President that solves all the world's crisis. (My wish ... a Republican President) Maybe he will be the man who finds a cure for AIDS, cancer, and world hunger. I suppose every grandparent holds the highest of hopes for their grandchildren. I received 2 wonderful gifts in the lives of my children, Eryn and Bryan. They are healthy, beautiful young adults, with their lives in front of them. Knowing that, is a gift that any mother would be proud to receive. As for the next generation - our grandson Christopher Corry, the greatest gift is that he was born. He will be able to carry on the Corry family name. What I can do for him is pray that he makes a difference in this world of uncertainty, that he grows up to be the kind of human being that thinks of others' needs before his, gives to those who have nothing, and that Christopher Corry can one day say... "I made a difference in some one's life today".

Monday, December 5, 2011

Gotta wonder what these 3 things have in common. Well, I suppose you can tie them together. Actually, you CAN see the similarities.

This past week, Steamboat Springs, CO was whipped into a frenzy by winds that topped 123 m.p.h. In case you weather bugs are listening - that's right - 123 m.p.h. Pasadena, CA and the Santa Ana winds have nothing on the Yampa Valley. I suspect the mighty Ute Indians were delivering some type of ominous warning to this valley. Mother Nature got together with the indian spirits, huffed and puffed, and almost blew our house down.

The high winds started in the middle of the night on December 1st. Our overly paranoid, nervous dog Casey crawled on the bed and quivered in fear over what sounded like a freight train bearing down the mountain. At 0710, while I was staring out the living room window, pondering why the trees in the courtyard had not blown their roots, and headed for Arizona, a large portion of the roof took flight from its anchors and landed smack-dab in the yard. Unreal. The sound was deafening. I stood there, in shock, trying to take hold of what had just happened. 2 hours later, with another gust, the next portion of roof literally peeled off the building. If ever I had any curiosity in what hurricane winds feel like, Mother Nature answered that question on December 1st.

Al Gore came out with a over-hyped movie a few years ago. He claimed that we were in some horrendous global warming spiral, and that in some way, the GOP, George Bush and corporate America were in cahoots to heat the globe right out of existence. It would appear that since that movie made headlines, America has seen more cold then triple digit numbers. Everything comes and goes in cycles. I doubt that Mother Nature has some alliance with any political movement. Weather patterns are just part of the scheme of things. I tend to get a real giggle out of alarmists who run crazy, like the 3 little piggies, squealing about global weather patterns and imaginary conspiracy theories. Neither the Dems or the GOP had anything to do with my roof taking flight on December 1st.

One of the oddities of that horrendous winter/wind storm was the sturdy, son of a gun, snowman who withstood the hurricane force winds of December 1st. He is still in the front yard. Sure, he has lost a little weight with the sun shine, but he is one tough gun. I have to wonder that if America, the economy, and all things relevant, were built with such determination and spunk, we'd be in a far better place. The Occupy Movement, the self absorbed entitlement generation, the "I deserve everything for free" group could take a lesson from the 6 foot snowman in my front yard.

Subscribe To

Welcome to Musings from Menopause

As God is my witness, as God is my witness they're not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this and when it's all over, I'll never be hungry again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again.